Word count: 100
She’s been collecting these bottles what seems like ages. She loves the way each one catches the light, reflecting a rainbow of colours, evoking the memory of where each one originated, or where she thought they originated. She truly felt that each one had its own soul.
Garbage? How could anyone call them garbage, insisting they should just be tossed into the recycling, instead of taking up space on the porch? Each was filled to the top with love! Would the sun bother to kiss each one, helping shine their light on all if they were garbage?
One man’s trash…
100-Word Stories: Friday Fiction
Photo Prompt: © Copyright G.L. MacMillan
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